


The Wall

by RedDevil



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDevil/pseuds/RedDevil
Summary: A series of interrelated one-shots featuring Red talking to the psychiatrist Dr. Gray (from season 6). Mostly a character study of Red with discussion of his backstory, his relationship (and desire to have a relationship) with Liz.  Set during the current season (so there are spoilers for any episodes aired in the US during season 7).   Set to the tune of Pink Floyd's The Wall.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	1. In the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for giving this a try. I have had this idea simmering since Season 6 and finally am writing it (slowly). Please let me know what you think, or if there is a conversation you want Red to have in the future.

After a decade of graduate school and quite a few more years in medical school, Dr. Gray wondered why she had aspired to be a psychiatrist. Working at the federal mental institution was tiring on the best of days. On the worst of days, it was downright soul-crushing. There were a few interesting cases, but they were few and far between. The young Dr. Gray had hoped to help those who were in need of the most help. She knew the research. When the government shut down the state and federal run mental health institutions, those that would have gotten help in those very institutions were filtered into the prison system. To the point that the US prison system now is nothing more than a holding place for the mentally ill. The state of the carceral state in the United States was downright depressing. She wanted to be an agent of change from inside the system. How naïve had she been? 

Walking into her home just outside of Terre Haute **.** Taking off her shoes she dropped her purse in the foyer and contemplated visiting her friend in Bloomington, IN. She missed the small college town vibe, and what college town was better than Bloomington, IN. Home of Indiana University, her current special friend was a professor at the university. It would be a nice break from the week she had. There was one patient she was sure she would make a breakthrough with. A young man who she yet to find the perfect diagnoses for. He had traits of a few mental health disorders. His mother had been a horrible woman, who had sold him for drugs to her drug dealer on a few occasions. He had suffered greatly as a child, and somehow he had managed to survive his childhood. But as a young adult, a college student, something broke, and he went crazy erupting in violence in a class. Badly injuring the adjunct professor and almost killing another student. The young man was very unlikely that the adjunct professor happened to be a Federal Prosecutor. It ensured the young man's crime would become a federal crime. However, he did get lucky and was deemed unfit to stand trial.

After a few sessions, Dr. Gray felt they were close to getting to the cause of his mental breakdown. Today, however, the boy built his walls back up. When she pushed him at the wrong time, he seemed to regress backward. It felt like a total loss of any ground she had made.

Dr. Gray so consumed with her thoughts never noticed the man sitting in her living room. She walked right past the room and into the kitchen to get the bottle of wine she opened the night before. Pouring herself a healthy glass of wine, she walked back out of the kitchen towards her bedroom. It was when she just entered the hallway leading to her bedroom that she caught a glance in the corner of her eye, of a figure out of place in her living room.

Turning to take in the situation, Dr. Gray saw the man she had certainty condemned to death when she found him fit to stand trial. Sure that he was there to kill her she dropped her glass of wine and screamed for help.

Raymond knew he should have announced himself to Dr. Gray when she walked into the house. But he could not help but study her. Was she who he thought she was? Because recently his ability to read people has been faulty. His instinct and ability to read people were what had kept him alive for so long. Now in his twilight hours, it seemed to fail him. 

Dr. Gray moved to run away.

Raymond had already searched her house for a hidden gun. She lived in Indiana after all. He found none. So he was not too worried about her getting a weapon, but calling law enforcement would present a problem for him.

Getting up from the chair he covered the distance between her running towards the front door and where he had been quick. Grabbing her, gently as to not hurt her, he pulled her towards him. When she went to scream again, he put his hand over her mouth.

“There is no need for that Dr. Gray,” Raymond said in a soft voice as to show he meant her no harm. Just to affirm it, “I am not here to harm you. Quite the opposite.”

Dr. Gray was shaking in his arms, she was not ready to die. 

“I am going to move my hand away, please do not yell again. We do not want the neighbors coming.” Moving his hand away cautiously he looked at the terrified woman. He hated that she was terrified of him, he would not hurt her. She was one of the few good people he had come across while he was locked in prison.

“Wwwwhat do you want?” She stuttered at the beginning terrified.

“I need your help with something.” 

“I was just doing my job.”

“I know. That is why I am here again. I need your help.”

“With what?” Dr. Gray said not pulling out of his grasp, she was surprised with how gentle he held onto her.

“Me.” Raymond said, “When I reflected on our time together, I was quite impressed with your skills. I have never put much faith in the entire field of a psychiatrist. However, you have a knack for reading people. For seeing through the bullshit. I need someone to help me with that.”

“You want me to help you read people?” She was confused by his request.

Red laughed, “Not so much. No. I need your help trying to figure out why I am struggling with that skill. I have always been very good at it, and now I seem to be getting it wrong a lot.”

“I cannot help you. You are a wanted criminal.” She said out loud before she thought after she said it she regretted it. It was not a good idea to tell a man like Raymond Reddington she would not help him, especially when he had her trapped in her home alone.

“I assure you that you will be compensated handsomely. I also can promise you that no harm will come to you.”

“No harm will come to me where I am now.”

“I doubt that. I heard about the attack just last week on you, and there was the time I saved you from my colleague. Had I not stepped in, we may not be having this conversation.”

“I could not take your money.”

“Then donate it to a good cause. I can assure you the money will come from a clean source and will be legitimately earned. While I might be a world-renowned criminal, I do have legitimate business ventures. I would not dream of tainting you by giving you money Illy gotten.”

“Why me?”

“I told you already. You are good at what you do. You saw through the BS.”

“Why now?”

“Why not,” Red answered. “I want help to figure some things out. As much as I wish I could do it by myself, I do not seem to be successful. I keep making things worse.”

Dr. Gray studied the criminal looking in his unblinking eyes. Pain, hidden behind a layer of playfulness was clear. She had seen it months ago when he sat in her office as a prisoner of the US government. Her instincts told her this man would not hurt her. He saved her once before, at great cost to himself. She doubted he did not know exactly what he was doing when he saved her. There was also his reaction to her calling him out. Part of her wanted to study this man. It was an interesting tale, whatever led him down this path. Raymond Reddington was a once in a lifetime chance to do a case study of a functioning sociopath. The academic in her was intrigued. Part of her was nervous because she would be breaking the law. 

“I will have to see if I can take a leave of absents.”

Red smiled at her, “Great. I am glad to hear this. Please just contact them. We should get going.”

“Where are we going?” She asked confused.

“Anywhere you would like. The plane is ready.”

“You own a plane?”

“Yes.” Red said, “I hope you understand why I cannot leave you alone for right now.”

“I do. Can I at least pack?”

“Of course,” Red responded following her down the hallway to ensure she did not call the authorities. He studied the paintings hanging on the walls of her room while she packed clothes. “I could just buy you stuff.”

“No. I like my things. I will need to email my boss to let him know I am going to need a leave of absences.”

“Do you have any destination in mind?” Red asked, “So I can let the pilot know and assure we have accommodations when we arrive.”

Dr. Gray thought about it, it was insane to think she was just packing and going with the “Concierge of Crime” the FBI”s 4th most wanted man. He was willing to take her anywhere she wanted to go, so she would be his psychiatrist. This was insane in itself, she made a note to see her own psychiatrist when she got back to study why she was so willing to blow everything up in a moment's notice.

“Surprise me.” She answered.

Red laughed, “We can always move again if needed.” He assured her, “May I borrow your phone?”

“I only have a cellphone.” Dr. Gray offered him her iPhone.

Red looked at the phone like it was some alien technology. “I’ll have my man call when he picks us up. How does a private island sound?”

**Tell me is something eluding you sunshine  
** **Is this not what you expected to see?**  
**If you want to find behind these cold eyes  
** **You’ll just have to claw your way through this disguise**


	2. Thin Ice

Dr. Gray could not help but notice that Reddington worked with an extremely handsome man. She was introduced to the man named Dembe, no last name. Dr. Gray smiled, hoping Dembe would not notice the thirst in her eyes. It has been awhile. She was a woman after all. 

Dembe noticed Dr. Gray study him and smiled back at her as she climbed into the car. Dembe was cautiously proud because Raymond did the unexpected and sought help. Dembe had begged him to look for after the latest diagnosis. The end was coming, and Dembe wanted his friend to be at peace when he died. Raymond wanting and seeking out psychiatric help was good. Part of Dembe hoped that if Raymond could find peace on Earth, it might help the second treatment work. But another part knew this could be temporary. Just like the cleanses and the various exercise. Eventually, Raymond would get tired and move on, hopefully not before Dr. Gray could help him.

“Dembe please call Edward and tell him we are to the Island. Also please make sure the main house and guest houses are ready.” Red then remembered they had invited Dembe’s family to join, he quickly added, “Will Isabella and Elle be joining us?”

“Maybe later in the week.” Dembe smiled warmly into the rearview mirror. 

“You own have a private island?” Dr. Gray asked wondering why she was surprised, he had mentioned going to a private island, but she thought it an exaggeration. When she had first learned she was going to be deciding Raymond Reddington’s competency to stand trial, she read the news clippings about him and studied every piece of information she could get. She knew to go into the meeting with the notorious criminal she had to be ahead of him or at least know more about him than he would expect. She had learned that he likely was quite rich.

“One of my many properties yes,” Red answered honestly not trying to brag. He was just answering her question. He found himself relaxing in her company more so than he had expected. Personally, he detested psychiatrist. Who needed to pay people to listen to their problems? But after meeting with Dr. Grey and her astute reading of him, a small voice in the back of his mind kept bringing her up. Maybe she could help him. Help him with what? Find happiness? No, he did not deserve that

Dr. Gray found herself relaxing next to Red in the backseat. She had so many questions, but she did not know where to begin. Who was Dembe? Just a driver or a bodyguard? He seemed to be more important to Red. Dembe kept a watchful eye on the older man as they walked to the car. It was more than a job for Dembe, she thought. 

Dembe’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He maneuvered the car through the streets of the small midwestern town, pulling the phone out he checked the screen. “Raymond, It is Elizabeth.”

Dr. Gray studied Red out of the peripheral of her version and she saw an uneasiness develop as Dembe spoke the name. 

“Send her to voicemail.” Red sounded bored as he spoke.

“Who is Elizabeth?” Dr. Gray could not stop her from asking, she felt the tension fill the car at the mention of her name.

“A colleague,” Red responded seeing the knowing look in Dr. Gray’s eyes.

“Why are you upset with Elizabeth?” Dr. Gray could see it in Red’s body language, even if he tried his best to hide it. There were little tells that gave him away. Almost impossible to spot, but she had spent years studying under a man who developed the art of studying micro-expressions

Red smiled at Dr. Gray because the woman saw through him once again, “I would rather not talk about it now.”

“You are mad at Elizabeth for something?” It was a question, but from his reaction to the woman’s name Dr. Gray knew it was the truth.

Red turned his head back to the Doctor, “Already starting work?”

“Yes.” The Doctor responded, “This is not a vacation for me.”

“Do you go on vacation often with known criminals? Or patients?”

“No. Answer the question or Dembe can drop me here because if you will not talk to me, or think you can dictate what we discuss than this is a waste of both our times. I have more pressing things to do. Patients who need my help.”

Red clenched his jaw, and for the first time, the Doctor saw the dangerous game she was playing. This man has killed, and there was no one to protect her. If she pushed him too hard would he kill her? Her instincts said no. That while he was a killer and had done very many horrific things in his life, the man before her still has a sense of morality in him. A twisted one, but one that would not let him kill someone just because they pushed or annoyed him. For Raymond Reddington to kill, she believed there had to be a true transgression against him or he had to be backed into a corner he could not get out of. A corner that would result in his death if left there. This was not the case between them. 

“Yes. I am upset with Agent Keen.”

Dr. Gray noticed the name change. “What did she do to upset you?”

“She lied to me.” Red said, “Betrayed me.”

“You kill people who do that.”

“I have to. I live in a world that we cannot run to court when someone injures us. We are only as strong as others perceive us.”

“By letting her slide on betraying you, lying to you, you are showing weakness and inviting attacks from others?”

“Yes both on me and my business.”

“Interesting.” The Doctor said. She had read about this idea and even seen it in her patients before, and the case studies, but to see it live in action and hear a criminal explain it made it more real. She first came to know this idea through her readings of Elijah Anderson’s _Code of the Street_. In the _Code of the Street_ , Anderson was explaining why young African American’s utilized violence as a tool. It was part of the code, a system of rules created by a group alienated from mainstream society. Unable to achieve the goals set by the middle class, these young African Americans, often males, developed new goals, _The Code of the Street_. Anderson was borrowing heavily from some of the subculture theories of early Criminology, but it was interesting. An affluent white male, followed the _Code of the Street_ , in that he saw respect and fear as a commodity that had to be won and could be lost. If lost, you were likely to become a victim because others were seeking to take more from you. But she also knew that research showed following the _Code of the Street_ also meant being a victim more often. It was a double edge sword. She made a mental note to come back to that eventually. See if Raymond saw it that way.

“Then why have you not dealt with her?” Dr. Gray thought she saw something in Dembe, a reaction but it was so quick she did not get to fully process it.

Red did not answer instead he looked outside the car window. Red answered not turning to look back at Dr. Gray. “I do not know why.” 

“You do know, you just do not want to tell me right now.” Dr. Gray called him out on the lie, “And that is fine. We are just starting. In time, we will come back to it.”

Red seemed relieved.

“Are we going to be safe? Are there any active threats against you I should know about?”

“There are always threats against me.” Red said, “It is the constant in my life. However, you have nothing to worry about. When you are with me you are completely safe.”

“That must be a tiring existing knowing that at every moment there is someone who wants to hurt you.”

Red turned his head, there was a sad smile on his face. 

It was all the answer Dr. Gray was going to get from him, “I have one more thing I need to clear up. We should have covered it before we started speaking.”

“What is that doctor?”

“You cannot tell me if you are planning or will plan any crimes. Especially if they are going to harm you or someone else. I have to report those. I will not break the law for you.”

“Other than aiding a criminal?”

“Yes. Other than that.” Dr. Gray said not considering providing mental health treatment to a known criminal as a crime. But technically it was, and she could probably lose her ability to practice if caught. Do no harm was something she took seriously, and not helping him would only cause more harm in the world. 

“That is interesting doctor. Drawing lines in the sand. I find those lines never last long.”

“It is what it is,” She said hating that phrase but finding herself saying it because she was not sure what else to say at that moment.

“How did you decide it was ok to break the law to work with me? As a morally upstanding citizen, should you not follow the law.”

“The law is not as black and white as we’d like it to be. You said that yourself. “ Dr. Gray said, “But I do not think that is the question you want to ask.”

“oh,” Red said surprised by the doctor's response. “Do entertain me, what question was I meaning to ask there?”

“You want to know why someone like me is willing to drop everything to help someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Red eyebrows went up he was interested in this conversation.

“A criminal. Or maybe you do not think yourself deserving of help. Or both. As I said during our last session, I have no idea why, but you are a good man masquerading around like a monster.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I can see it.” She said, “And it is what I am betting on because I just agreed to go to an unknown location that is deserted with a known serial murder.”

Red laughed when she called him a serial murder, but when he thought about it he fit the definition. Someone who kills more than 3 people over a prolonged period with cooling-off periods. “What is the answer to the question then?”

“Which question is that?” Dr. Gray wanted to hear him say the words, she knew what question he was referring too.

“I believe the question is, why are you willing to drop everything to help someone like me? A known criminal that may be a serial killer.”

“Because you are a human in deep pain. If you let me help you, I will.”

Red hid his internal emotions, but the answer got him. Deep inside he felt a pang of something. Hope, deep anguished soul-wrenching pain for what he has become. He was not sure what to label it, but the doctor words had touched him. Just like the time Lizzie had called him broken, unwilling to accept help, and she told him she cared about him. Or the first time she told him she loved him (after her fake death), or the time she embraced him. It was hope with a mixture of pain because he knew that if he let himself believe, truly believe, it would hurt more when it all fell apart. One thing Raymond was sure of was that monsters like him did not deserve love or kindness. He deserved the shit that came to him. What Lizzie did to him, the betrayals, the pain she caused, it was his just deserts. 

Yet, sadly each time even knowing he deserved the pain, and knowing the pain would come, he hoped against hope that maybe this time would be different. Maybe this time Lizzie really did love him, and the Doctor did want to help him (and he would let her help him). But each time the ice broke, and he falls through into the cold water beneath. 

**If you should go skating  
** **On the thin ice of modern life  
** **Dragging behind you the silent reproach  
** **Of a million tear-stained eyes  
** **Don’t be surprised when a crack in the ice  
** **Appears under your feet  
** **You slip out of your depth and out of your mind**  
**With your fear flowing out behind you  
** **As you claw the thin ice**


	3. Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 1

“May I record this?” She asked the small recorder sitting on the table between them as they flew to some unknown location on a beautiful private jet. It was her first time flying private and she would admit she understood why those who could afford it did.

“I would rather you not,” Raymond said relaxed, his suit jacket resting on the chair, and his vest unbutton. He was in his environment creating a false sense of security. A glass of some dark liquor resting in his hand while he gave her his undivided attention. Red found his stomach was upset. Was it the new treatment, or was he scared? The doctor could read him like a book. It was unnerving after years of cultivating his shield that hid everything deep inside, here was this doctor that seemed to find a way to peak through the veil and read through it all. Why did he decide to do this? He was fine. He had accepted the end was near, it was not something he wanted, but that was life dealing with the things you never wanted. Dr. Gray would not let him slide with filling her full of bullshit half-truths or pure falsehoods. She made that clear in their last meeting when he challenged her and she rose to the occasion. 

He asked for this, reminding himself. Would she hurt him? Because it seemed everyone eventually hurt him. That was why it was safer to keep everyone out. Not that he was ever entirely successful at that. Dembe and Elizabeth living proof that he was not a fortress. However, he had hurt both of them deeply. Being in their lives he had made those he loved worse. 

Finally, explaining why he did not want the doctor to record their sessions, “If your tapes ever fell into the wrong hands, it could harm us both.”

“I can take notes.” Dr. Gray understood his request, but she was still nervous to be in the presence of a known killer without any help nearby. Would this man help her if Raymond suddenly became violent? Would Raymond suddenly become violent? She doubted it, but it did not help push down the nerves she felt. This was no like her day to day job, where there was help one call away. She was in the thick of it now, “If that is ok?”

“Of course. I am an analog myself. Up until I started working with the FBI I never carried a cellphone, and I deplore email. There is nothing like mailing and receiving an old fashion letter handwritten. I enjoyed the disconnect from technology.”

Red found himself feeling the need to calm the Doctor's nerves. He could hear she was nervous. While most of the time he enjoyed people fearing him, it what kept him alive after all, in this case, he hated it. Maybe he was wrong about her being the person to help him, to see through his bullshit.

Pulling out a clean legal pad, she was nervous to begin. “Um well, I guess we can start with why you want to speak with a psychiatrist?”

Raymond tried to put her at ease, “I have not been able to rely on myself as much as I used to. My people's reading skills are off. My instincts faulty.”

“And you think psychiatric help would fix this?”

“It might.”

“I do not buy it.” Dr. Gray called him out, once again once she said it she regretted it. It was a flaw she had when she knew a patient was feeding her bullshit, she had to call them on it. Usually, she would call them out a bit more gently, but with this man, her instincts told her to go direct and hard. Would it be the death of her?

Raymond laughed. She had a point, there was more there. He had a deep need to know what she saw in him. She had called him out so easily after only meeting with him for a few hours over the course of a few days. How did she see through him so well? 

“Raymond.” She noticed a slight change in his body. A small movement. “May I call you Raymond?”

“I prefer Reddington or Red.”

Keeping a straight face, she made a mental note of this. He hated his name. Choosing the less formal of the names, “Red, you want more out of this. This” She gestured between them, “Will not work if you are not honest with me.”

“This is what is wrong with your profession.” Red started, “You expect your patients to trust you right away. It is a one-way street. Your patient tells you their deepest darkest secrets. My dad did not love me enough, my mom was a feeble woman who never stood up for me, and yet you give nothing in return.”

There were so many things with that statement to unpack. Dr. Gray started with the least dangerous, she would need to take it slowly with him. “You sought me out for help. I did not come to you.”

Red smiled, “I know.”

“Then you want this to work, on some level. The only way I help you is if you are open with me.”

Red studied her.

“But let us move onto some of the other statements you made. Was your father cold towards you? In one of our sessions, if I remember correctly you said he was not a good man.”

“He was not.” Red said, “But I doubt my father is the reason I am having trouble reading people. He is the likely reason I learned to read people so well.”

Another mental note, she would write these down later to study. For now, she knew writing them on the pad would distract him. “What about your mother than?”

“A good woman,” Red said.

Nodding, “What made her so great?”

“She was very loving and patient. She was a good reader of people too. Better than I could ever hope to be. She saw people for who they were, deep inside. She understood a troubled heart.”

“Is that what you were? A troubled heart?”

“I was a difficult child,” Red said. “But I seriously doubt my family has anything to do with this. I expected more from you. I do not have an Oedipus complex if you are wondering.”

Dr. Gray laughed, “I never would have suggested. The profession of the psychiatrist has left Freud and his theory’s in the past where they belong. However, he was close to correct on one thing.”

“What is that?”

“Our childhood traumas come back to affect us in adulthood if we never allow ourselves to process them.”

“You think childhood trauma has led me to be the man I am today?” Red was starting to doubt his desperate plan would work. The doctor he meant at the federal prison had been observant and could read him. The woman before him was timid and too far astray from what he thought was the real problem. Well technically he did not know what his problem was, he just knew that he had a problem. He no longer trusted himself and as more time passed he was increasingly becoming uncomfortable in his skin. 

“There is not just one cause for who we become. The world is not that simple Raymond.” She did not mean to use his name, it was a slip on her part, but he seemed ok with it. “I know you know that because you were in my office months ago spouting about how the world is not as simple as we all like to make it be. That justice is not that simple. I believe this is your defense mechanism kicking in. You are afraid of what I might find out, what you might tell me. Are you afraid I will hurt you with this information?”

Red laughed, “Doctor I am not afraid of you.”

“You are. Maybe not mortal fear.” She smiled at him gently. She wanted these next words to come out kind and caring, and not meant as a judgment. “I think deep inside you are scared. Sometimes, there is a glimpse of a scared child looking back at me when we speak. Not in an immature child, but a young boy who was hurt by those he loved. That trauma persists inside of you. Now you are a grown man, and I cannot fathom the trauma you have experienced and dealt out in your life. But it just continued to build up. Leaving behind scar tissue that is rough to the touch. That rough harden skin used to protect you, but now for some reason, it is trapping you inside.” The minute she finished her monologue she realized she might have gone to true too quick with him. She saw him following her every word, his eyes alight with recognition. Maybe? She was not sure what the emotion was, but there was something there, she was hitting her target. But when she got to the end, they changed quickly. The disguise fully restored. Shields up and ready for battle.

“Doctor how about a drink?” He got up making sure not to break eye contact with her, she did not need to know how close to the truth she came just now. This was a stupid idea. Everything inside of him wanted to tell Edward to turn the plane around and return the doctor home. He would be safer with her gone. But another part of him, one he had ignored for years, yearned for him to give it a chance. As he moved towards the bar, he saw Dembe comforting smile, and Red knew he could not abandon his plan. He had already lost Dembe once because of what he was becoming, could he survive losing his only friend a second time?

Just to prove to everyone that she had not gotten to him just now, but mostly to himself, Red spoke to her from the bar, “That drink doctor?” 

Dr. Gray realized she had never answered his questions, she was to busy processing the change. He was going to be one of her toughest cases, and she secretly relished the challenge. Instantly at that thought, she felt guilty, because before she was a human being who was hurting and in need of help. Yes, he was a bad man, maybe a monster, no definitely a monster, but he was a human. She had taken an oath to do no harm, and she had taken this job to be able to help people (like him). He was not just a challenged, she needed to remind herself, he was human.

“Sure. How about a gin and tonic?”

“Do you always drink with your patients?” Red teased from behind the bar.

Smiling at him, “Only the ones that show up to my house unannounced and whisk me away.” She avoided using the word kidnapped, she was sure it would cause problems for them.

“Red”. She watched him as he made the drink. 

“Yes?”

“If you had a physical injury would you not have it treated?”

“A physical injury?”

“Yes, what was your last injury you had to seek medical treatment for.”

He seemed to think about it, “A gunshot wound and a concussion with a brain bleed.”

“What happened?”

“Car accident.”

“And you got shot in the car accident?” This was not what she wanted to talk about but she needed to get him relaxed again. Ready to talk to her, and not hide behind the bar or his persona.

“After the car accident. I was trying to get something of mine back from someone who had stolen it.”

“Did you seek medical treatment for your wounds?”

“Yes.”

“You had a medical doctor treat them?”

“Yes.” He knew where she was going with this.

“You have wounds on your psyche. After the life you have lived, I am surprised that you are still functioning. Even after your last year, facing death. Yet here you are. If you are wounded you seek treatment. I think you understand that. I think that is why you sought me out.”

“To treat my psychological wounds?”

“Yes.”

“Well you should know then doctor, I am horrible at following doctors' orders.” It was a joke, but the truth.

“I would be surprised if you weren’t.” She smiled at him.

Red continued to make their drinks, having paused to focus on the doctor. As he was making the drink he looked to her, studied her eyes and saw no malice in them. Should he trust his gut? It had been wrong so much recently. Making a decision, he walked over to the doctor and handed her the gin and tonic with a squeeze of fresh lime, “My father was not a good man.”

Taking his offered olive branch, and the drink, “I remember from our previous sessions.”

“He fancied himself an authoritarian. It was difficult. We never quite saw eye to eye.”

“Your mother came between you and him often?” She knew the answer she could tell by the warmth Red spoke of his mother that she was his protector as a child.

“Yes. When she could.” Red said.

“Did he ever hit her?”

“No,” Red said not needing to add that his father saved the beatings for Red only. But he could not bring himself to make eye contact with the doctor in that second. His thoughts were stuck on the scared weak little boy who had pissed his pants when his father came down the hallway with a belt in his hands angry at the young boy for not picking up his toys.

“What happened to your mother?” The doctor saw the lack of eye contact but continued.

“She died of ovarian cancer.” His eyes finally went back to the doctors, they were dead as if he felt nothing. 

“How old were you when she died?” Hello Mask, the doctor thought as she saw the lack of emotion. This was an advance game of chess, and she was starting to enjoy the game.

“I was sixteen,” Red responded leaning back in his chair.

“Did your father remarry?”

“No.” A pause as if he was thinking, “ I do not think so.” Red responded to his voice calm, the doctor thought he was forcing himself to remain monotone and calm to hide a deeper pain.

“How were things after your mother died?”

Red smiled sadly at the doctor, “A few weeks after my mother’s death, my father shipped me off to a military school.”

Now it was the Doctors turn to hide her emotions. Weeks after his mother's death, he was shipped away. “How was your relationship with your father once you were out of the house?”

“Nonexistent.” Seeing that the doctor wanted more, Red continued, “I saw him twice more. The first winter break, and at graduation from Annapolis.”

Dr. Gray made a note on that, only because she could not look at the man before her. He was human and despite his hiding behind a mask, she could feel his pain. Her empathetic nature was both her best and worse quality as a psychiatrist. She wanted to ask him the cliched question, how does that make you feel, but she knew he would close down. Abandoned by his father, shortly after his mother's death, somehow she knew this would not be the last time she would take a note to hide the fact that she felt a strong empathic response to her patient. It was both her strength and weakness when it came to dealing with patients. 

**Daddy what else did you leave for me**

**Daddy what did you leave behind for me?**

**All in all it was just a brick in the wall**

**All in all it was all just bricks in the wall**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. If you have any suggestions let me know. Even if it is a future conversation you'd like to read. I still have a few more chapters to write.


	4. The Happiest days of our lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay. I have been under the weather (not with Covid-19 thankfully).

"Are you ok?" Red asked Dr. Gray as she grasped at the armrest of the small twin-engine seaplane as they soared through the air. 

"I am not a fan of smaller planes."

Red smiled, "This one is safe. I can assure you."

The Doctor did not find his words assuring, Red noticed how her grip only got tighter on the armrest. Never wanting to be a bad host, Red engaged the Doctor in conversation. 

"What made you want to become a psychiatrist?" Red asked partly because he wanted to get to understand the Doctor better, but also to distract her. 

The Doctor knew what he was doing, but decided to indulge him. In their short time together, he had opened some to her. While she was a psychiatrist, and that usually meant keeping her life separate from her patients, this one was different. Reddington would pry, as she pried into his life. She already surmised the best way to keep him talking was to let him in bits at a time. To show she trusted him and earn his trust all the same. The American Psychological Association (APA) would not approve of her methods, as they defied their ethics, but Raymond Reddington is a unique patient. Unique patients required unorthodox methods. "I wanted to help people."

Red chuckled at the cliche, "Everyone answers they want to help people."

The Doctor smirked at him, "I did want to help people."

"You could have become anything else and still helped people."

"Why did you become a criminal?" There was no malice in her response. It was merely a question. 

Red understood the question was not meant to be judgmental. It was a simple question. "Sometimes, we do not get to choose who we become."

"That's bullshit." The Doctor countered, allowing her nerves to drop some of her professional exteriors. She usually would not use profanity around a patient.

"Really? You have never been forced to do something against your will."

Oh, he was playing with her now, she wanted to point out that he made her come with him. But had he? If she had told him no, she was confident he would have left, as he offered. 

"We always have a choice. Sometimes all our choices are bad, but we always have a choice. As you have said, the world is not as simple as we like to think."

Red pondered her statement. What were his choices back then? He had gotten so good at making up his mind and sticking to the decision that it seemed like the choice was made for him. "I asked you first."

"Nice copout." Dr. Gray smiled as she said it, but she let him take the easy way out for now, "I became a psychiatrist because my mother had an undiagnosed mental disorder. It was present throughout my childhood. Sometimes she was the most attentive funniest mom during the high highs, and then other times, she would not get out of bed for weeks."

"Bipolar." Red grimaced, having read about the disease, "I am sorry you went through that."

"I'm not. I learned early on to take care of myself and others. Without that experience, I would not be the person I am today. It drove me to want to help others. To make sure no one had to suffer through an undiagnosed mental illness."

"What happened to your mother?" 

"Nope, your turn. I answered your question. Now answer mine, what made a promising naval officer give up his career and become a career criminal?"

Red noticed the Doctor was relaxing, she no longer had a death grip on the seat. Dembe was in the front, there was no hope of his friend acting as a distraction. He could blow off the question, but he actually wanted to know what happened to the doctors mother. Part of him needed to get to know the Doctor if only to have human contact with someone. 

Someone other than Dembe, because eventually, he would push Dembe away again. Dembe would realize his life without Red was better than his life with Red. Then Dembe would leave again. Everyone left eventually. They moved on to someone better than him because they all deserved better than him. 

"Ask me something else." Red was not ready to divulge the bit of information she wanted. He had told a total of 5 people the story of why he became who he was. At least a part of the story. He was not ready to make it six. 

There were times to push patients to talk about a subject, and times to let it go. So early in their relationship as Doctor and patient, she knew better than to push. He was opening to her bits and pieces, that would have to be enough or now, "Before, you said your father had sent you to military school?"

"Yes," Red answered the mask firmly in place. 

"You joined the military afterward."

Red knew his reason for applying to Annapolis, and he had been surprised when he was accepted into the prestigious school. Even more shocking when a U.S. Senator was willing to write him a letter. As sad as it was, at the time, he was sure it would impress his father. But there was also promise in that life. A future as a Naval Captain running a ship. It would have been marvelous. But as with everything, things happened, he was diverted from that path. Years later, Red realized he played right into the hands of the man who would consume his life. 

This man sought out abandoned lost souls who had a particular set of skills. A young Red was one of his easy prey. Lost and abandoned by a father who despised him. Many of the young men would go onto great things if they did what the man requested. Many more would die violent deaths. Finally, most were on Raymond's side of the world. The man and his employers wanted Raymond Reddington to go to Annapolis. The man opened the door for Red to be a successful military man, all he had to do was take it, and he did. 

The military had become a part of Red's life, whether Red wanted it to be or not. It was what he knew. After his mother's death, it was all he had when his father had turned his back on Red. A small pathetic part of the teenager had hoped that if he did well in Annapolis, his father would love him. Or at the very least tell him he was no longer the fuckup his father accused him of being. None of that ever came to fruition. Red was sure if his father was the first to say he knew his son would amount to no good. That his son would become a traitor to his nation and criminal. 

"How was that?"

"What is that?" Red asked, stalling for time. He knew that even when they made it to the houses, she would still question him. 

"Military school." 

"Hellish." And honest response because it had been hell. Teenage Red thought the abuse his father had dealt out was hell, but the school took punishment to a new level of hell. "Difficult at first, but I acclimated eventually." Red said, "I became their top cadet before I graduated."

"Your father must have been proud."

"I have no idea if he knew." 

"Did you enjoy school?"

"Not at all. I've always had an issue with authority." 

"Then how did you manage to make it so far in the military?"

"Many have often wondered that." Red smiled at her, "Sgt Reed and another man are why I was successful at Annapolis." Despite the decades that passed, Red still remembers the name of the man that tormented him day and night while he was in military school. 

The day he arrived, the teenage Red was still mourning the loss of his mother, Sgt Reed had punished him for some small infraction. Running until Red's legs gave out, followed by a public whipping, and ending with a night of standing guard outside of the barracks. Deprived of food most of the day and most of the next day, this became the norm in Red's life for the first six months he was at the school. Going home for the winter break had been the only thing that kept him alive. His father had gotten drunk and beat him a few times, but it was nothing compared to what Sgt Reed could do. By the end of the first week, Red found himself next door at his childhood friend's house. Ilya's mother and father had treated Red like one of their own. They fed him and kept him safe and warm thereafter. 

Back at the start of the military school, Red had given Sgt Reed more than enough reasons to punish him. It had only been a few weeks since her passing, and he was angry about the loss. He lashed out often, not yet having learned how to control his emotions and mask himself. It did not matter, they would teach him in due time. 

"How so?"

"They beat it out of me." 

"Beat?"

"The school was draconian. Corporal punishment was acceptable in schools, and this was a military school. Making boys into men. Sgt Reed was a fan of public whippings."

Dr. Gray had to hold the shock she felt in. She could not imagine a young man being whipped in public, torn away from the life he had known. It was barbaric, even in the 1960s. 

"There were also withholding of rations, only MRE's for meals, endless runs, pushups, standing guard, and various additional chores." 

"How often were you forced to endure any of these punishments?"

"Often." Red said, not looking the least bit bothered by the memories, but inside he could feel the whip lashing against his back and torso. He could hear the whish should as the whip flew through the air. 

"Your turn, Doctor. I gave you more. What happen to your mother? Where was your father?"

"My father left. Things were too difficult living with my mother for him. I got to visit him every other holiday." The Doctor frowned at the memory. "My mother ended up committing suicide when I was nineteen. I was already a psychology major. I decided to double major in pre-med as well."

"I am sorry to hear that." 

The Doctor could see he indeed was sorry for her loss. It was what made her so sure he was not a sociopath the first time she meant him. He felt things, and had the ability to empathize with others. "It was hard, but I dealt with the trauma." The Doctor said, truly having come to terms with her mother's choice to end her life. "Now your turn again; were you the only one?"

"The only one to what?" Red asked, acting like he could not remember their previous conversation. It was a weak tactic, and had he had his full facilities, he would have easily dodged the question. This trip was taking a lot out of him. This last-ditch effort at treatment zapped his energy and left him with a pounding headache. 

"The only one they targeted?"

"Sgt Reed targeted me because of who my father was. The man did so because my father asked him to make me a man." Red started his hand moved to the bridge of his nose between his eyes. The dull headache he had been fighting most of the day was intensifying.

"Who was the man?"

"it is better if you do not know his name."

"Why?" The Doctor asked, not understanding why Raymond would not tell her.

"He went by many names. He was the first Major. A man who trained boys to be spies. But you cannot know his given name because it would bring you harm if anyone thought you knew. He is a well-kept secret. He became an influential person in government." Seeing the Doctor accepted his answer, for now, Red tried his best to put a smile on, "We are landing now, Doctor. See, it wasn't that bad." 

Dr. Gray saw that Red was in physical pain. She wondered if it was just a headache, they had traveled a lot today, and she had engaged him most of the trip. He had napped for about thirty minutes on the plane, while she read. Or was there something else going on with the criminal? She did not remember seeing anything in his medical file she had access to when he arrived for evaluation. 

She watched as they landed, gripping the seat again in a death grip. Planes were not made to be boats that landed on the water, even seaplanes. But the pilot managed the landing perfectly. She barely felt a difference. Once they were on the water, the pilot turned and had them to the doc within minutes. 

"We aren't camping?" She was horrified at the idea of camping. The Doctor only saw a forest and a lake a bit inland. She was a horrible judge of distance, and being in the sky flying down did not help. 

"No." Red smirked, "Though, once Dembe, an associate, and I camped in the middle of a forest, but we slept on the jet."

"You landed a jet in the middle of a forest?"

"We hid it there." Red smiled, "But I assure you there are three houses further inland. See the lagoon inland? The houses border it under the trees."

"You own all of this?"

"Yes. I did not build here. That was another associate of mine. He had purchased the island as a getaway, a sort of retirement property. The guest houses were supposed to be for his children, but they never came."

"Why was that?"

"He and his family lost their lives."

The Doctor was surprised by the end of the story. She wondered if Reddington had anything to do with the unfortunate conclusion. 

"I took over the land and use it as a vacation spot for myself. We are perfectly safe here, no one knows about it. From the outside, it looks like an uninhabited island. Thanks to solar panels and other green technology, we are completely off the grid but have all the comforts of a home still."

"Sounds like a nice haven. Are you thinking of retiring?"

"Not yet. This is just a vacation spot."

"But, you have a retirement spot?" The Doctor was just making conversation right now. Red had successfully distracted her for now from the previous discussion.

"What makes you think that?"

"You are an incredibly careful, extremely strategic man. You have a bugout location if you never need it. You just do not want to tell me. That is fine. I understand. The purpose of the location is to allow you to walk away from it all." Taking his offered hand, she let him help her out of the parked plane and onto the dock, "Have you ever thought of using your bugout location?"

Red SMILED at her, "The houses are just about hundred yards through the forest. Dembe, do you mind bringing the doctors bags?"

Dembe nodded, he would wait a while to follow Raymond and the Doctor, wanting to give the two-room to speak. Pride was what Dembe felt right now, he was proud of his friend for seeking out the help he needed. It had been a while in the making. Ever since Mr. Kaplan's death, maybe before, Dembe had worried about Raymond's mental health. 

The last few years had been difficult, and now with the illness progressing, Raymond needed to find peace before the illness took him. It was Dembe's sincere hope for his friend that he would find peace on Earth. A small part of Dembe hoped that if Raymond found the peace on Earth, that it would make this round of the aggressive treatment they were trying successful. Raymond's inner demons and self-hatred, Dembe, though, played a role in the first treatment not working. 

The Doctor followed along with Red, keeping pace with him easily. "So, about my question before. Have you ever thought about using your bugout location?"

"I once tried to give it to an associate."

"And they did not accept?"

"No. By then, our relationship was so poisoned, by fault of our own, that she would never accept anything from me."

"What poisoned your relationship?"

"Betrayal. By both of us." Red answered not wanting to tell the Doctor right now he had shot Mr. Kaplan in the face and left her to die in the woods. Not even having the decency to pay her the respect she deserved by burying her. No, he had left her for the vultures and bottom feeders to eat her carcass. But it did not work out that way. She survived and got her revenge. Her ultimate revenge was dying and bringing about a new fresh hell on him, ensuring that whatever relationship he had with Elizabeth would die with the birth of the secret. 

Just like that, the Doctor saw him put the mask back up. She tried to follow up with additional questions. Still, Red avoided the questions by pointing out the various wildlife and plant life they passed. 

Dr. Gray could feel herself running into the wall Red had built around himself. She could not break through it on the first day. They had made more progress than she had expected. His willingness to talk to her, even if she had to drag it out of him reluctant each time, was evidence enough to know he wanted help. She decided to take an easy on him. They had discussed a lot of hard subjects today. 

So many things she wanted to circle back to. 

"Let's go back to your time in school." 

Red smiled at her, "What about it?" 

"You said Sgt Reed targeted you specifically because of your father?"

"Yes. My father was a Colonel in the Army. Every bit of an authoritarian to his men, as he was to me. Sgt Reed had worked under my father for a few years before he left the military. Sgt Reed told me one night after a punishment."

"Why?"

"I was exhausted, starving, and could barely stand. I think Sgt Reed wanted me to know exactly why."

"Do you remember what your punishments were that night?"

"He had me run behind his Jeep, probably 8 or 9miles. He shifted to having me do pushups after that until I collapsed." Red remembered it well because it was the first time he felt utterly hopeless. It was the first time someone had broken his spirit. He lay on the ground, water pouring down on top of him from the hose Sgt Reed had been spraying him with. A young Red willing himself to move, but he could not. The Sgt had him on reduced rations for weeks, and his tank was on empty. 

He had lost a lot of weight, it had been the skinniest he had ever been. He was allowed one MRE a day, usually at lunch. Right before P.T. During PT, the Sgt would push him to the point of vomiting on a bad day. Therefore, the MRE he had ingested would come out after the endless run. 

That night had been the breaking point. He was being punished because he missed a question. His teen mind exhausted at the breaking point. The answer just would not come to him, he tried to give the acceptable answer, "Sgt this cadet does not know at this time. This cadet will get the answer and report it back to you." 

That answer had been just as unacceptable as a wrong answer. This was not uncommon. Even the right answer said in the wrong tone (any voice really) would have resulted in punishment. The Sgt was on a one-man mission to make the son of the man that ruined his career pay for it. The Major had sat back and watched, waiting for his chance to pounce. And pounce he did. A young Raymond never saw the enemy acting as his friend, a lesson he would learn later in life. 

"That is horrible. I am sorry that happened to you." 

Red was taken back by the Doctor's statement. He looked at her and could see she meant it. She truly felt empathy for him. She did not pity him. Not the way Elizabeth had when she called him broken, too broken to accept kindness from anyone. No, Dr. Gray truly empathized with him, without pity. He wanted to tell her that life in the military school was better than living with his father had been. Even with the hellish torment, he had been under in the school, it was not someone who was supposed to love him doing these horrible things to him. In the school, while they called out every flaw, and some enjoyed it (Sgt Reed), it was meant to build him up into a stronger man. Whereas his father just wanted to tear him down to bits and pieces. 

Either way, everything he endured both at the school and with his father had served to build up his pain tolerance and his ability to withstand torture. It also taught him valuable lessons that kept him alive all these years. He honed those skills he learned early on and used them to his advantage. 

Just then, they made it to where the houses was. There were large trees that shielded the houses from the sky above. No one would know they were here. The tree's canopy above covered them so nicely. 

"The two guest houses are about the same." Red said, changing the subject to something less uncomfortable for him. 

"The house on the left has a nice deep bath. I recommend that one. It also has a lovely view from the back out into the lagoon."

"Then I guess I will take that one."

"I will let Dembe know to deliver your bag there." 

"Why don't you show me to the lagoon."

"You must be tired, doctor?" 

"Actually I am not just yet." She said, grabbing his arm gently looping hers through his, "Tell me more about the school."

"What else is there to tell. I learned how to march, shoot, think like a military man, and the regular stuff teen boys learn."

"What about other things? Did you not get to enjoy your teens?"

"We were allowed to go off campus during the days and evenings on the weekends if we were good. It was not until I was seventeen that I got my first trip off-campus. I went with the others to the skating rink, and there was also a lovely library in town. Full of books. The librarian took pity on me and let me check out books. She never charged me a late fee if I could not get back to return them on time because I was confined to the campus."

"Did you have many friends?"

"Just one good friend, but not at the school. And we parted ways for a while after graduation."

"Why was that?"

Red wanted to tell her the truth. He had spent many vacations with Ilya and his family. They welcomed him with open arms on all of the school holidays, when his father refused him. Having grown up next door to the family, they were the closest he had to a family. It just happens to turn out they were Soviet spies. 

Ilya's father had been caught taking secrets from one of the corporations that manufactured weapons for the military. Ilya's mother and father were deported, and Ilya went to work for the Soviet embassy in Washington, D.C. They would meet up again years later, Raymond, a young Naval Intelligence officer, and Ilya still working the spy game. 

"Different paths. He was a friend from home. We would write, and I visited when I could, but after I graduated and went to Annapolis, we grew apart." 

Changing the subject to something less depressing, "Did you get to do anything typical teen things while you were in that school?"

"Like what?" Red asked, unsure of what teen things she meant. He had sex as a teen, of course, sneaking off base to be with one of the local girls. 

"Did you get to go to prom or other things teens do."

"Yes. I actually took the woman who would become my wife to prom. It was at her school, and the week of prom, I was so nervous that Sgt Reed would strike and not let me go."

"How did you meet her?"

"At the skating rink. Her mother disproved of me because I was one of those troubled boys at the military school. We would have to sneak to meet each other. Her mother actually called the school demanding they keep me away from her daughter."

"What happened?"

"Reduced rations, MRE's, standing guard most nights, and I was confined to campus for an entire month."

"Standing guard?"

"Stay outside the dorm all night. Standing at attention."

"All night?"

"Yes."

"What time of year was it?"

"Winter." 

"Wasn't it cold?"

"Very, but taught a lot. How to grow comfortable anywhere and how to control my thoughts and survive even in the worse conditions. It was a skill that has aided me through quite a few bad situations I found myself in. One time in North Korea..."

The Doctor interrupted him, for her own sake, she was not sure she could hear more about the torture this man had survived. How, as he even functioning as a human. Instead, "What else did you learn ?" The Doctor asked, noting that Red looked like he was in physical pain. Was it the memory or actual pain? 

"How to stay undercover. I raged inside as a teen, angry at the world, but I learned to hide it well. I learned to be the excellent soldier they wanted me to be. To take orders unquestionably." Red paused he felt a bit nauseous, the headache refused to go away, and did his best to hide his discomfort, "It was also where my sense of justice developed. I knew the world was not fair, and that right and wrong were not as simple as they made it out to be." 

Dr. Gray and Red stood in silence looking out over the lagoon, the sun was starting to go down in the early evening hours. 

"You should go get settled in Dr. Gray. Dembe will prepare dinner tonight in the main house if you wish to join us. Otherwise, your pantry should be fully stocked. If there is anything else you desire, let me know. 

We will have it brought in."

"I could use a few notebooks. Composition ones, please. I also want you to get at least 3 for yourself."

"Whatever for?"

"Your homework. I want you to keep a journal. Your thoughts and feelings while we work through this process."

Red frowned, "I'm not sure that is such a good idea."

"You said this island is a safe place. You can burn them when we are done. I will never ask to read them, but I will at least ask you to show me you wrote something. Just spend 30 minutes a day writing whatever you want. Preferable 15 minutes before and after a session."

Red nodded, "Anything else?"

"Not that I know of." 

Dr. Gray smiled at him, "Good job today." 

Red saw that she meant it too, she was happy with the little progress they had made. A small part of him was actually proud of himself for making her happy. How pathetic, his mind lashed out at that little part. 

** When we grew up and went to school **

** There were certain teachers who would **

** Hurt the children any way they could **

** By pouring their derision  **

** Upon anything we did  **

** Exposing every weakness **

** However carefully hidden by the kids **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	5. Another Brick in the wall pt2.

The progress with Red had been slow since the first day. Today she was determined to get him to talk about something that mattered. They discussed literature, Russian, British, and American literature. He was well versed in all of them. They discussed music, he was a fan of classical and jazz, she did not find it overly surprising. He also listened to classic rock, the Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, and others that would have been popular in his late teens and twenties. He had been writing in his journal as she requested, but still, the progress was at a standstill. Today she was going to push him. They were building the rapport, had built the rapport. 

Now it was time to cash in on it. 

As soon as he sat down, she went straight for the jugular, “What made you become a criminal? From what I’ve read, you had a promising career in Naval Intelligence. You were on your way to becoming an Admiral. Then suddenly you disappeared and resurfaced a criminal, a traitor to your government.”

“Actually, at my trial, I was able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I had not committed treason.”

“But you committed the other crimes you were accused of? You accepted a guilty plea. After you had fought the system, you gave up, why?”

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” Red was amused today, he had a bit more energy today than he had over the previous week. In week two of the treatment, he was in a rest period right now. 

“Let’s start with the why did you become a criminal.”

“Revenge.”

“You are going to have to give me more.”

“Revenge and I made an impossible decision.”

“What was the impossible decision?” 

“Save the mother or the child.”

“And both of these, revenge and saving either a mother or a child is what drove you to become a criminal?”

“Yes.” 

“I need more.”

Red laughed, “We all want more. You can’t always get what you want.”

The doctor laughed, “But sometimes you find you get what you need. I know the Rolling Stones Red. I get what I want and need here. Tell me more.”

“I chose the child. 

She did not ask to be in that situation.”

“And the mother did?”

“No. But the mother had brought the dilemma about. I decided to save the child. But the only way I could keep child safe was to become something more.” Red purposely avoided using the pronoun she. The doctor was good enough, he was confident she would pick up on the fact that Elizabeth Keen was the child. 

“Why sacrifice that much for a child? Was the child yours?” The doctor noticed she had hit something there.

“No, she was not my child.”

“But, you did have a family at once?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to them?”

“That is a story for another time,” Red said, not wanting to answer the question now. He was not sure if he had the answer or could form words that would make sense to anyone else. At the time when he made the decision, he had been at his lowest. 

“Give me something, Red.”

“For vengeance is an emptiness and he that seeketh is wasteth himself.” It was a stalling tactic because in that moment, Red had another quote running through his mind in his own internal dialogue that seemed to be accurate as well. Revenge, that thirsty dropsy of our souls, makes us covet that which hurts us the most. He wondered, in his desire to get revenge for his family, had he fooled himself into thinking he could find solace or redemption in the child that would grow up to be the woman that would cause the most damage in his life. Elizabeth was the force of destruction in his life since he had entered her life. He had disrupted her life as much as she had disrupted his. In the time that he had worked with her, he had numerous injuries, both physical and to his business. She stabbed him in the neck with a pen, but then he had also sent a man to kill her then husband. But then she had betrayed him, turning him in right when Berlin appeared in the US. 

She almost let him die at the hands of Berlin during the trade, but she had caved at the end. Her refusal to help him when he needed the fulcrum to save his own life. She had come around after he was shot and almost killed. But she had refused at first, he knew out of fear. She chose Tom Keen again; after all, he had done to her. 

She had a child with Tom Keen. 

Even as Red had begged her not to go down that path, she chose Tom. Then there was the fake death, the massive wedge she placed between Mr. Kaplan and himself. That wedge had killed his business, Kaplan dismantling everything he had built. But he survived that. He always survived and forgave her. Was that when the wedge between Dembe and him had formed? God, he had not even made it to when she betrayed him and sent him to prison. He almost died because of her, yet again. Seconds away from death, and she hid it from him for months. He had forgiven her, and once again, he almost lost everything he had built back up after Mr. Kaplan dismantled his business. He had lost Dembe because of her. Yet he forgave her and came back begging for more. Now she had sided with her mother. Believing the worse of him again. He had let his need for revenge introduce the thing that had hurt him most in his life. 

“What were you thinking just now?” The doctor saw his mind processing something. 

“Nothing.”

“What does that quote mean to you?” 

“I thought I found redemption in the child. That saving her would make up for all I had lost and what I had done to get revenge.”

“But it didn’t?”

“No. She was not my redemption or my way home. I was wrong.” Red said his voice serious and gravely. He had failed Elizabeth just as he had failed his family. 

** All in all you’re just another brick in the wall **

** All in all you’re just another brick in the wall **


	6. Chapter 6:  Mother

Annoyed, Dr. Gray banged on the door of the guest house Raymond had not emerged from in days. They had been making headway in their sessions. He revealed something he had not wanted to in their previous session. Then he stopped showing up at their agreed time. The first day she knocked on his door, and there was no answer. The door was locked, which was unusual since the Island currently only had five inhabitants, Dembe, his daughter, her child, Red, and Dr. Gray. He had left the door unlocked many other times. When he failed to answer, after she banged on doors and then knocked on a window, she went to the main house to find Dembe.

Dembe told her it was unlikely Raymond would make the meeting. She saw the look between Dembe and his daughter, and that was when Isabella engaged her in conversation. They were keeping her out of the way. She let it happen the first day. Sometimes this happened with patients they’d make headway, and the patient would push back. Given the fact that escape was difficult for her, she let Raymond have the day.

The second-day Dembe meant her at the door. Told her Raymond was under the weather. He would let her know when he could resume sessions.

Isabella once again entertained the doctor. Dr. Gray got worried that evening when neither Dembe nor Raymond appeared for dinner. She tried to visit also in the evening and was turned away.

By the fifth day of being turned away at the door, Dr. Gray was ready to leave, but she was also worried. If Raymond really was ill and still so ill, he could not receive the company; then, he needed a doctor. Given she was the only doctor on the island, she was pondering, forcing her way into the house. Or else, she would request a trip home because this was wasting her precious time.

Today, she was going into that house and seeing her patient. Knocking on the door, she prepared herself to push past Dembe and into the house.

Dembe answered the door, the same apologetic look on his face. “Raymond is still not feeling well. He offered to send you home, if you wish, we can have the plane here by this evening.”

“Is he really ill?” Dr. Gray asked, wanting to know. 

“Yes,” Dembe responded, seeing his daughter playing on the beach. 

“Then, I should see him. I am a medical doctor too.”

“Raymond does not want to see anyone.”

“You mean Raymond does not want anyone to see him like this.” Dr. Gray knew Dembe was a gentle giant, having had dinner with his family and him for a week and a half now. They had talked, Red often absent from dinner; it left the two to fill the space with conversation. She learned Dembe had a BA in English literature and spoke multiple languages. Red and Dembe had filled the library in the main house with all the books they loved. 

Pushing past Dembe, she made her way towards the back of the ranch style house. She assumed the floor plan was much like the guest house she was staying in. She walked into the room that she assumed was the bedroom, and immediately the smell of sweat and vomit filled her nostrils. 

Two quick steps and she was at Red’s bedside. She should have forced her way in before now. He was lying on top of the covers in shorts and a t-shirt. There was an IV in his hand, the bag hanging from the bedpost. This was the least put together she had ever seen him, but she was more worried about his health to notice.

“Dr. Gray.” His voice was rough as he spoke, he looked exhausted, “I am sorry to have missed our appointments.” Those few words seemed to have zapped his energy because he looked even more exhausted, his chest was rising and falling quickly as if he was out of breath.

When she reached down to take his temperature, he physically flinched away from her touch. She saw fear in his eyes, but his body was tense as she touched her hand to his forehead. It was not the best measurement of temperature, but she needed to check in the absence of a thermometer. Standing next to him, she could feel the heat radiating off his body already. But when her hand came into contact with the wet hot forehead, she almost recoiled. “You are burning up!”

“I’m fine,” Red said, shifting away from her touch as if it hurt him.

“No, you are not. You have been sick for five days. Has your fever been this high that long?” When he didn’t answer, she followed up with, “Do you have a thermometer?”

When Red did not answer, she turned to Dembe standing in the doorway.

“I took my temperature an hour ago. 102. It is down from 105. He has taken two tablets of ibuprofen.”

“When was the last time he ate?”

“He’s right here.” Red groaned, pushing himself to a sitting position; the world was spinning. At least the anti-nausea pills had kicked in, and he was not vomiting anymore. His stomach ached, the muscles from the endless vomiting.

Dembe did from the doorway “It has been two days since he ate something. He refused food yesterday. He has not kept food down for five days now.”

“Is he on any other medications?” Dr. Gray looked at Dembe because Red would not answer her questions. She could see him annoyed, but sitting up in the bed and speaking seemed to make him worse.

“I am right fucking here.” That had some conviction in it, with anger.

“You shut up.” The doctor said, “And rest.” Turning back to Dembe for an answer, shocked when Reddington listened to her, but it was more because he was too exhausted to speak.

“Yes.” Dembe said, “The doctor warned that the first round of treatment might take a lot out of him and might cause this.”

“What is he being treated for? And what with?”

Dembe looked to Red, waiting for permission to tell her.

Red shook his head no. 

“I am also a medical doctor with an MD.” She snapped at Red because it was a sensitive subject for her. How many times had male colleagues disregarded her because she was a female psychiatrist? She was not a real “MD” even though she went to medical school, did her internship, and a hospital residency. She was very much a medical doctor like any other doctor. “Dembe, do you have chicken broth or any broth?”

“Yes.”

“Go make him a bowl of it. Actualcould you put it in a cup with a straw. Ginger ale?”

“We have some, yes,” Dembe said.

“Bring a small cup of it, too, please.” Dr. Gray moved to the bathroom, finding a cup she filled it with cool water and walked back in, “Take a few small sips of this. It will help your sore throat.” 

“I am sorry. I should not have snapped at you.” When the Doctor did not respond, “Also, I am sorry if I offended your doctor.” Red said, noting the coldness coming off the doctor and how she had snapped at him before, “I did not mean to imply.”

“Just drink the water.” She said, gently touching him, chastising herself for losing her cool with him. He was expected everyone to walk out of his life to leave him. He trusted a few people, and here she was giving him the cold shoulder because he upset her while he was sick. walking out of the room feeling back for being so cold to him. “I am going to find a cold washcloth and some cold water. Relax. Lay down.” She took the water from him and placed it on the nightstand.

Leaving the room, she searched for Dembe, finding him in the kitchen. “I need a bowl for cold water, preferably with ice and a soft washcloth.”

“Let me get that for you,” Dembe said, rummaging around to find the requested items.

“How long has he been ill?”

“A little over two years now,” Dembe answered.

“The treatment he is receiving, I’m guessing the FDA does not clear it?”

“It is not.” Pausing, Dembe gave a gentle smile, “I am not going to tell you what is wrong with him, doctor. If he wants to tell you, he will.”

Understanding Dembe’s point of view, “Can you answer one question for me.” She paused, looking at Dembe, “Is he dying?”

“Yes,” Dembe responded. The pain in his eyes was clear. Raymond meant a lot to the man before her. She suspected as much shortly after meeting him. Dembe was more than a bodyguard, assistant, or driver. 

“I am sorry.” Dr. Gray responded, adding after, “It explains a lot.”

“What?” Dembe asked, adding ice cubes to the bowl of water.

“Why he sought my help. He left me with the impression he thought my profession was a waste of time when I evaluated him at the facility. I could not understand why he all of a sudden, decided he wanted help and sought me out.”

“I may have had a part in that.” Dembe said, “I have nagged at him for years now to get help. That maybe if he found someone, anyone, to talk to that he could find peace.”

“You are a good friend. More than he might deserve.”

“Give him a chance; he might surprise you, doctor.” Dembe said, “He is a good man. A lost soul, but a good man.”

“I know.” She was not sure why she added the last part, other than she knew the horrible things he had done. 

Dembe saw that she knew, that she had no question about what type of person Raymond Reddington was and could be. It was surprising to see that reflected in someone else’s face. Knowing that his brother was not purely a monster, but that there was a decent human inside.

“Here. He will likely fight you.”

“I expect that much.” She said, leaving with the bowl of ice water and a soft washcloth. She returned to the bedroom to find Reddington coughing. He had an old-style headkerchief in his hand, which he quickly hid from her. Blood, she wondered if he was coughing up blood. 

“You are dying?”

Red nodded.

“Thank you for not lying to me. I won’t ask you what of.” She said, “You can tell me if you want. But in the meantime, let’s get you through this fever. Drink some more water.”

He did as she asked. 

“I am going to wipe your face and arms with this cold washcloth. It will help cool your body off. We need to get your temperature down. It should also help you feel better. My best friend had breast cancer, and she found it helped after her chemo treatments.”

“It is not chemo.”

“I know as much.” She said, “Relax. Dembe will be in soon with the broth. You need to drink it slowly and see if we can keep it in you. You need strength to get through whatever is causing the fever.”

“You remind me of my mother,” Red said weakly, leaning back into the bed while Dr. Gray gently wiped the sweat off his face. He hated to be tended to like this, especially by Dr. Gray being weak in her presence, but the fact she did remind him of his mother helped him settle.

“Tell me more about here.” Dr. Gray was not sure if she should keep him talking or force him to rest. He looked exhausted, but she wanted him to try to eat some. Therefore, having him talk to keep him awake would do for now.

“She was the referee between my father and me. One of the kindest people I have ever known.”

“She sounds like a saint.”

“She had to be to put up with my father and me.”

“I am going to ask you a question.” Dr. Gray started looking at Red as she moved down to his neck, “Please do not get upset, and I do not expect an answer now. You will want to answer, and you can say whatever you want. But we will revisit this when you feel better.” Waiting for his permission because she knew this was pushing him too hard while he was ill, “It is not meant to make you upset or meant to be a charge against your mother.”

Red nodded. He was prepared for the question.

“From what you have told me, your father was abusive towards you.”

“Back then, they did not call it abuse. It was normal.” Red answered quickly. He could sense where she was going. He felt his blood pressure rise as anger filled him.

“Yes, but your father went above and beyond the normal type of punishment. I am willing to bet you lived in a constant state of fear that any wrongdoing would be punished severely by him. Including beatings.”

“What makes you think that?” Red said, taking the cloth from her and putting distance between them. He did not want her touching him right now. He had enough comfort.

“The way you reacted to the punishments at the school. The way you discussed them as if they were nothing. Something you expected. It told me you had lived with something similar before.” Dr. Gray marveled at how a man so sick could suddenly look alive and ready to argue. She knew it was taking all of his strength and energy to keep up appearance.

“Good guess. But what was your question.” 

“Why did your mother sit by and let this happen? She watched your father do these things to you. You said she was the referee, but he did them anyway. Why would she let her son go through this?”

Red felt his blood pressure rise even higher; how dare the doctor question his mother. But he reminded himself, she had warned him about this. That she was going to push that button, that she was not doing it to accuse his mother of being a bad mother. Calming himself inside, he spoke, “Because people did not get divorced in those days.”

“She did not have to divorce him to take you out of that situation. Why not go live with family? Or intervene between you two when it started? Or have you live with your family?”

Red did not have an answer to that question. 

**Mother, should I build the wall?**


	7. Goodbye Blue Sky

Dr. Gray found Reddington sitting in the garden of the main house. It was a beautiful patch of land with flowers of multiple colors, succulent greens, and a small water fountain that poured into a tiny pond. As she approached, her patient never once noticed her. Usually, he was on alert; even when he had been ill, he had known when she was coming. Smiling, she realized he was engrossed in a book. Looking at the cover, she found he was reading _The Road_. She had only seen the movie and was familiar with the primordial theme of good and evil. The father knew he was dying and was trying to prepare his son to live in a post-apocalyptic world. Interesting choice, she thought, studying the man reading. It was one of the few times she saw him unguarded. He was so engrossed in the book that he never noticed her walking towards him. 

When she stood in front of him, she cleared her throat to alert Ray to her presence. 

“Oh.” He was surprised when he looked up from the book, “Hello. Is it time already?”

“Yes.” She said, “But if you want to finish the chapter. I can come back in a few minutes.”

“That is quite alright. I’m afraid if I do not put it down now, I will continue to read the day away.”

Taking a seat across from him in one of the comfortable chairs, she pulled out her notepad. Before she got to business, she eased him in, knowing the conversation she wanted to have today would be difficult if he let himself have it. “On my vacations, I will go to beautiful places like this and find myself sitting there engrossed in the latest murder mystery. Trashy airport novels I pick up on the way to the location.”

Ray smiled at her, “Murder mysteries. Never would have guessed those were your guilty pleasure.”

“In my bedroom, I have an entire collection of Michael Connelly’s Hieronymus Bosch books.”

“Someone wrote a murder mystery book about the painter?” Ray was clearly confused by her statement. 

Laughing not at him, but by how such a cultured man was so removed from popular culture. She wondered how much of it was his own choosing. “No. The main character is named after the painter. His mom liked panting’s.”

“Oh. That makes a bit more sense.” Continuing to talk, looking stronger than he had been just the previous week, “Do you want some of those books brought in? I doubt we have any in the library.”

“No. I have been enjoying re-reading the classics. Dembe should have been a teacher. When we discuss what I am reading, he gets animated and excited. You would hardly know he’s the strong silent type.”

Ray laughed, “I fear I was the cause of his love for books. When he first joined me, I read to him most nights. The classics.”

Dr. Gray interrupted him, “Because that is all you read.”

“Yes.” Ray said, “He was still learning English and recovering. It was interesting, to say the least. But he got the gist because I would act out some of the parts.”

Dr. Gray laughed, a true laugh that lit up her face. She was picturing Ray acting out _Frankenstein_ or _The Old Man and the Sea._ “What was Dembe recovering from?”

“It is not my place to tell you. You should ask him.”

“I will.” She smiled at Ray, realizing that he was not using his walls to block her, but he truly did not want to share his friend's details without his friend’s consent. Dr. Gray knew she needed to shift the conversation from ideal discussion to the topic of choice, but it was a balance. 

Whereas Ray did not really want to do this today, he wanted to open the book and find out what happened. Or maybe play with Ella. Anything but this. A week had passed since the Doctor had helped nurse him back to health. His strength was coming back slowly, the treatment taking less and less out of him. He had learned more about the doctor while he was recovering. She had been willing to open up to him, tell him stories of her youth and adulthood. She never pried while he was recovering. He felt ok in trusting her, but at the same time, he just was not sure. He had been wrong so much. He felt insecure about having the doctor see him at his lowest, weakest, and most vulnerable. He loathed the fact she saw that side of him. No one, except Dembe and Mr. Kaplan, got to see that. He did notice that at some point, she had taken to calling him, Ray. While few used that name for him in the past, he felt ok with her using it. He still preferred Reddington or Red because it reminded him of Lizzie. He missed her deeply but knew this was better. He was destroying her life. Katerina, it seemed, only wanted to use her daughter to get to him, and if he were gone (even where Liz could not track him), then he would be safe. Not being in her life kept her safe, and it kept Dembe and him safe. He was still angry at her for the latest betrayal, but he would forgive her. Eventually, he always did.

“Hey, where did you just go?” Dr. Gray asked, noticing her patient had seemed to stop paying attention.

“My apologies.” Ray responded, focusing on her, “What were you saying?”

“How long have you known Dembe?”

Ray thought about it, “Well, over two decades.” 

“Did Dembe know you before you became a criminal?”

“Do people really become criminals, or are they born criminal? Or maybe something pushes them into criminality.”

“While I enjoy debating these philosophical ideas with you, you know what I meant by the question.”

Ray smiled at her, she knew exactly what he was trying to do, and she was not going to let him do it this time. “Yes.” Pausing as if he was contemplating his answer, “Well, technically yes.” 

“Technically, yes?”

“At that point, I had not committed any crimes.” Ray answered, “But accusations were starting up. I would not have been welcomed in the US with open arms.”

“Treason?”

“Yes.”

“Which you did not commit?”

Ray answered, “I never betray the US. What I was accused of, well, they had set me up.”

“They being?”

“The Cabal.”

“The super-secret evil organization that practically ran the world.” Despite having said that line a few times, it still did not ring true. Dr. Gray knew that factually it was true, but it was just so far fetched it was hard to believe. If Ray had been any of her other patients, she would have started to test him for schizophrenia or some delusional mental illness. But he was not delusional. He actually had decent mental health considering what he had lived through and done, and for a dying man, he seemed ok. She knew he had yet to truly face he would die, especially if this radical treatment that had him near death last week did not work.

“Yes.” He chuckled because he could tell she struggled with the idea of the Cabal. Every time the Cabal came up in conversation, she had a similar response. 

“Ok, just needed to clarify.” She was joking with him, focusing on walking the fine line right now. She needed to maintain a social distance as his doctor, but at the same time, a patient like Ray needed to build a deep trust before he was willing to talk about the difficult stuff. The only way to build trust with Ray was to show him you trusted him and meant him no harm. “So, the Cabal set you up?”

“Yes. Katerina Rostova was working for them. She had put the plan into motion.”

“Why?” Dr. Gray made a note to ask who Katerina Rostova was to Ray. She thought as she should know, but she could not remember who Katerina was. The name seemed familiar.

“I was dangerous to them. I had a motive to burn them to the ground, and they thought I had the fulcrum.”

“What was the fulcrum again?”

“Blackmail info.”

“What was your motive to go after them?”

Ray looked at her, and his eyes shown pain that was quickly masked. She knew this question was not easy to answer. She waited him out. Sometimes just sitting silently staring at him working.

Ray looked back at her; they were in a game of chicken. Whoever blinked or looked away first lost, what they lost, who knows. Should he tell her? It was such an excruciating memory.

Minutes passed, and they continued to stare at each other. Saying nothing. Patiently waiting for the other one to cave.

“What was the question?” Ray eventually caved speaking first.

“What was your motive to go after the Cabal? It must have been serious if they thought they needed to blackmail you.”

Dr. Gray felt like they were slowly making way towards something big. Something that would help her understand the man Raymond Reddington had become. The catalyst for the double life he lived now.

“I did not know it at the time, but most of my mission had been in service of the Cabal. The Major.”

“The man who tormented you in the military school? I think you called him the Major. Him and Sgt Reed?”

“Yes, the Major.” Ray said, “He had seen raw talent in me at that school. He ensured I was accepted into Annapolis. I made sure I meant the right people to get into Naval Intelligence when I graduated at the top of my class. I even made sure my career would be fast-tracked for Admiral because I owed him. And I was his way into the Cabal, to being a power player again. He had his eye on returning to a larger role in intelligence. He had upset some of his bosses with a mission gone wrong, long before he ever meant me. He was set to recruitment from the school I was at. We were easy prey at the school. Some of us had no family, which made us perfect spies, and others were just the troubled kids of high ranking military officials or senators and congressman. He realized my talent was his ticket to the big leagues again.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes. He eventually became the Assistant Director of National Intelligence and got a different code name.”

“Oh.” Dr. Gray should not have interrupted Ray, but she could not help but express her shock. Seeing that, she interrupted his story, “So the Major, he was responsible for framing you?”

“Yes. He ordered Katerina to frame me for selling secrets that led to the destruction of the USS Gideon. Also, I later found out he had framed me for the bombing of a meeting between high ranking Soviet Officials, which led Berlin to think I had been responsible for killing his daughter.”

“But that is not what made you become a criminal. And still does not explain why he targeted you. What motive did you have?”

“Before all of that, he was part of the Cabal, and they attempted to have me killed by a Soviet who went by the codename Seaduke. The rest I am not sure of. But I now believe they framed him for the disappearance of my wife and daughter.”

“Wait, I thought they held a vigil for you after you went missing?”

“That woman and girl were not my wife and daughter.”

“How?”

"They were not my wife and daughter. I cannot say anything else."

“What happened to your family?”

“I do not know.” He was looking away from her, trying to hide the pain he felt. He had no idea why he was telling her all of this. It was one of his most guarded secrets. “I think I was a mission. But Seaduke was upset with me because of my success at taking down and getting some of his people to defect. I am sure he was happy to help the Cabal out if it meant hurting me somehow.”

“But you said your family was dead. How did you know?”

He was looking at her in the eyes now, not hiding his pain, “I ran out of gas. Stupid. I should have checked the gas gauge. I was in a rental. Having driven through the night. Just wanting to get back to them before my daughters recital, Swan Lake. She was excited about it, and I wanted to get back in time to go with them. I ran out of gas. The snow-covered the ground. Up to my knees in some spots, but I managed to walk the mile home.” He paused, looked away, took a sip of his cold tea this time. It appeared not to affect him, “And then I walked into the house. I could smell the clam chowder my wife must have been making. But I also smelt blood, could taste the rustic taste in my mouth. It was so strong in the air. I rushed into the living room to only find blood. I ran up the stairs to my daughter's room and only found more blood. It was as if they painted the floor and walls with their blood. There was so much.” Ray could not stop the words from falling out of his mouth, “I was late. Had I been home an hour before, Seaduke would have killed me too. But I was late. Because I ran out of gas.”

He got silent for a few minutes; he was studying the cold tea in his teacup. The Island seemed to understand his pain because it was silent. “I wanted to kill Seaduke. They told me he was responsible. The Cabal covered up my wife and daughter's death.”

“Did you ever find out what happened?”

“No.” He responded, “But I learned the Cabal had a hand in it.”

“How?”

“Because when I was trying to find out what happens to Berlin’s daughter, I came across my daughter's picture in a book. She was supposed to be Berlin's daughter, to help hide her away from him. But they needed a real body to take her place. It was my daughter's body. ”

The doctor did not ask him how he knew, “What type of book? She could still be alive then, right?”

“No. She is long dead. It was a book of a sick twisted man. He disposed of bodies for anyone with the right connections and money. The Cabal used him often. She looked a lot like Berlin’s daughter, but I knew it was her. He dissolved her body in acid to leave no trace. The Stewmaker is what they called him.”

“What happens to the Stewmaker?”

“I killed him. I dumped him into a tub of his own acid mixture while his own medication paralyzed him. Saved Elizabeth Keen from that fate.”

“How did Elizabeth get involved?”

“Someone hired the Stewmaker to get rid of her because she got him arrested and imprisoned.”

“How did Elizabeth react to you saving her?”

“She called me a monster.”

Dr. Gray hated the next sentences; it was so cliched of her profession, but there was a reason for it, “And how did that make you feel?”

“I am a monster.” Red looked at the doctor to make sure she knew he meant those words. Without a doubt, he knew he was a monster, but he lived with that fact. He would die with that fact. What bothered him most was how he had helped transform Lizzie. 

Dr. Gray was not sure what to say. “I am sure you have read about or even seen the statues of Janus.”

“The two-faced Greek god? God of peace and war?”

“Yes.”

“Just one of the many ways cultures have tried to deal with duality.” Red knew exactly where the doctor was going with her discussion but decided to let her. “You have the Sioux two-faced though he/she was mostly just evil, Kishi of Angola, and the cliched discussion of the yin-and the yang.”

“yes, but can a person both be good and a monster?” The doctor continued, “Duality is possible.”

“I guess that is up for everyone else to decide,” Red responded after a moment of contemplation.

“That is bullshit. You have never let anyone else define you. Why now?”

“Letting others define who you are, and letting it affect who you actually are, are two very different things. I do not care about what the world thinks of me. I will die a criminal.”

“You do not care what the world thinks of you. But you care about what those closest to you think. Elizabeth, for example.”

“What about her?”

“I believe it bothers you that she only sees you as a monster. Not as a man. A man who would do anything to keep her and her daughter safe. Yet, at the same time, that is not why you will not speak with her. That is not why you are mad at her. You have forgiven her for every betrayal, but what was different with the latest betrayal?”  
“Why does it matter?” Red asked, wanting to know why the doctor needed to know so much.

“Because I know it is more than just siding with her mother. That would be expected. She did that before. She has done it with Tom, with Alexander Kirk, with Jennifer, and now with her mother.”

Red glared past the doctor after opening up about his family. She was now picking at another scab that had not even begun to heal just yet.

“What was new this time?”

Red got up from his chair and left. It was clear he was upset, angry even. The doctor watched him walk away. She hoped this would not lead to a setback. He could push her away anytime he wanted. No longer worried he would kill her, he would simply have her taken away. Dembe would do it too if asked. 

**Did you see the frighten ones?**

**Did you hear the falling bombs?**

**The flames are all long gone, but the pain lingers on**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
